


this is real life, not a tv show

by castielanderson



Category: Boy Meets World, Girl Meets World
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Multi, Suicide Attempt, canon character death, this is just a mess im sorry im trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 16:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielanderson/pseuds/castielanderson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After thirteen years of hell, Shawn finds his way back to Cory and Topanga.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is real life, not a tv show

It begins in college, after Angela leaves him, and his dad dies, and Angela leaves him _again_ and all he wants to do is drink.  It's been devastation after devastation, and he doesn't know how much more he can handle.  He spends a lot of time in bed and thinks about disappearing. 

When he was on that soul-searching roadtrip, he had similar thoughts - like what would happen if he just jerked the wheel and crashed somewhere off the road.  Would anyone care?  Would anyone be upset, or would they just kind of brush it off, tell him to rest in peace, and move on with their lives?

It didn't really matter.  He thought he found some kind of closure.  But now he's back at school and everyone's breaking up and love keeps dying and all of those awful feelings are coming back.  And those feelings?  Those are the feelings Shawn _has never_ and _can't ever_ and _will never_ deal with.  Those are the feelings he drowns in alcohol.

Cory's off God knows where trying to reason with Topanga, and Shawn can't stand the silence of their empty dorm room so he leaves.  He wanders among the halls until the sound of a pumping bass catches his attention.  Behind the door is definitely a party, and a party means one thing to him: alcohol.

He doesn't introduce himself, doesn't even talk to anyone.  All he does is stuff his pockets with three bottles of beer and grabs another to start.  He cracks the bottle open and brings the sweaty rim to his lips.  One hearty swig is enough to hook him.

He leaves the party quick, and craving fresh air, finds himself outside on the patio of the Student Union.  Cory finds him there too, hours later, when all the beer is gone and Shawn is surrounded by empty bottles.

"Oh, Shawnie - why do you do this to yourself?"

Shawn doesn't answer.  He only lets Cory support him as they walk back to their dorm.  On the way, he dashes into a bathroom to throw up.  Cory rubs his back and lets Shawn cry into his sweater.  He sobs things about Angela and his father and never feeling good enough, but none of it is coherent.  Cory just keeps holding him and says variations of, "It's okay, Shawnie.  You're okay.  I love you, Shawnie."

When Shawn's done, they finish the last bit of the trek to their room.  Once inside, Shawn collapses to his bed, and Cory sits at his feet.  They're silent for a long while until Cory says, "Why, Shawn?  You know you're not supposed to drink."

Shawn huffs a laugh.  He's still pretty drunk.  "Because," he says with a shrug.  "I fucking hate myself, Cor.  I can't stand being who I am."

"Shawn, no - "

"I mean, what's so wrong with me, Cory?"

"There's nothing wrong with you," Cory says, and he shifts his weight, moving closer to Shawn.

Shawn scoffs.  "There's a whole list of shit wrong with me, but I try - I try to be a good person, Cory.  I don't know why I'm so fucked up, but I try.  I just - I've never been good enough for anyone.  My dad never stuck around, and neither has my mom.  You know - she didn't even come to his funeral.  Probably because she knew I would be there.  And now Angela wants nothing to do with me.  Even you, Cory - you're so fucking caught up with Topanga, it's like - what do I even matter anymore?"

"Shawnie - " Cory presses a hand to Shawn's knee

"Sometimes I really think I could just disappear and no one would give a shit.  It would probably be for the better anyway, since I ruin everything."

"Shawn - "

"I don't know why I ever came back - "

He's shut up by Cory leaning over him and moving in to press his lips to Shawn's.  Shawn jerks slightly, but when Cory's hand comes up to rest against his jaw, all the tension in his body dissolves.  His eyes flutter shut, and he works his tongue through Cory's lips.  It doesn't last very long, but Shawn is breathless when Cory pulls away.

" _Shut. Up._   Shawn," he huffs.  "You're important to me.  And you're not allowed to forget that, you buffoon."

Shawn nods.  "Okay, Cor."

"Now, get some sleep.  You're going to have a wicked hangover in the morning," Cory says with a grin.  Shawn, God help him, grins back - mostly because he can't stop.  His mouth is tingling and there's a low pressure in his groin.  He has no idea how they're going to explain this to Topanga.

 

.

 

With so much going on their sophomore year, the kiss gets swept under the rug.  Which is fine with Shawn.  He's never really told anyone that he's had this weird background crush on Cory since the eighth grade.  He originally thought it was just one of those t "if he asked, I'd go for it" kind of things, but over the years Cory bulked up and grew into his awkwardness and Shawn realized if he ever got the chance, he would ask Cory himself.

(He's liked a few other guys here and there, and sometimes he would dream about becoming Veronica again just to get things started, but he's never told anyone that and he probably never will.)

Everyone's shuffled around between the apartment and the dorms, Cory and Topanga get married and Shawn has a minor crisis about losing both of them, Angela finally comes to her senses and takes Shawn back, and then all the joy is over.  Eric, Rachel, and Jack graduate and Angela leaves and Shawn's left with Cory and Topanga for the next two years.

The summer is hard.  Cory and Topanga ask him to move to New York with them, to a really shitty apartment, but they make it theirs.  Normally, Shawn would be happy about that.  It's just the three of them again, like it's been their entire life, except it's really not.  Not anymore.  It's the two of them, and Shawn's the awkward third wheel, mooching off their marriage.  He realizes this right away.

Cory and Topanga continue on with their life - work and home and grocery shopping and sex and all of it.  Eric finds a job at a department store and starts taking night classes so he can go back to school for meteorology.  When he works out how he's going to put enough credits into his schedule to stay in the dorms, he moves out.  This means Shawn has a lot of time to himself.

Shawn stays on the couch during the night and when they're gone because he doesn't really see what the point is at trying anymore.  When they're home, Shawn leaves.  He can't stand being there when they clearly want their space.  He knows what this really is anyway - charity.  It always has been.  Cory and Topanga feel bad because there's no one left who cares about him, so they let him latch onto them.  Normally, he hates accepting charity, but at this point he doesn't really know what else to do.  There's nothing for him at Pennbrook, and going back to Philadelphia would mean admitting defeat.

When he's not home, he's usually at a bar somewhere.  He doesn't drink, because he knows Cory and Topanga will give him the boot if he comes home drunk, but they're the only places open late, and he can't stomach trying to sleep when he can hear the two of them in the next room.

Five weeks pass before Topanga and Cory approach him.  He's curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket.  His hair is unwashed and he's growing an impressive start to a beard.  He's told them he's feeling under the weather so they don't hate him when he stays in the same spot all day.

Topanga is the first one to sit down next to him, a glass of water in her hand.

"I know you don't want to eat, but you need to stay hydrated."

He accepts it, and uncertain, takes a sip.  While he leans over the couch and sets the glass on the floor, Cory steps up behind Topanga and grips the back of the couch with both hands.

"What is this?" he asks, looking between both of their somber expressions with a grin.  "An intervention?"

"Yes," Cory answers without missing a beat.

Topanga looks at her husband with disapproval.  "We're just worried about you, Shawn."

Shawn pushes himself up a bit and scoffs.  "Why?"

Topanga folds her hands together and interlocks her fingers.  "Well, it's just - you've been living with us for over a month now, and - "

"Oh, god," Shawn sighs, collapsing onto his back and pressing his hands to his forehead.  "You're kicking me out, aren't you?  Listen, I'm sorry.  I know I've taken advantage of you guys - "

"Shawn, no, no, no," Topanga says fast.  "We're not kicking you out, Shawn.  We invited you to live with us."

"We want you here," Cory adds.

"Yes, yes we do," Topanga agrees.  "We're just worried about you and how you're dealing with things . . . emotionally."

"You know that therapist you saw during senior year?" Cory asks.  "Was she good for you, because we were thinking maybe you could - "

He's interrupted by a slap from Topanga.  "Cory!  I told you not to rush into this."

Shawn sighs heavily.  Thoroughly annoyed, he throws the blankets off himself.  "Guys, I'm fine.  I don't need a therapist."  He stands up, locks his arms behind his back, and stretches until something pops.  He doesn't miss the nervous glance that Cory and Topanga share.

"Look," Topanga starts again.  "We know it's been a rough few years for you, and we're just concerned - "

Shawn holds a hand up to silence her.  "I know you guys are, I really know that, but I - I'm fine.  I promise."

"Shawn, you've barely moved from that couch for six weeks."

"First of all, it's only been five weeks.  Second of all, I'm just - I'm in a slump."  He runs his hands over his hair and then lets his hands slap against thighs.  "Maybe it wasn't the best idea for me to move here."

"Shawn?" Cory asks.  He steps around the couch, joining Topanga as she hangs up.  Their synchronization increases the size of the lump that's settled in Shawn's throat.  He swallows despite its persistence and battles a deep breath.

"I don't belong here," he says, his tongue tripping over the words.

Cory's face falls, and Topanga looks at him with her terrible, big, sad eyes.  "Why would you say that?"

"Well, I mean - look at us," Shawn splutters.  He gestures between them.  "You two are the cheesiest married couple in history and I'm your lousy, depressed trash of a friend roughing it on your couch.  I'm pathetic."

"That's not true," Topanga urges, but Shawn waves her off.

"It is, and it's fine, but I really don't need a therapist to tell me what I already know."

"Shawn - "

"Cory, please just drop it - "

"Shawnie."

Shawn opens his mouth to talk, but just like their first kiss, Cory cuts him off by occupying Shawn's lips with his.  It's a much longer, more passionate kiss, and Shawn doesn't really get over the surprise until Cory leaves him with a rough rush of his mouth.

"Cory - " he chokes.  "I don't know if you know this, but your wife is standing right there."  He touches his lips and looks at his best friend curiously.  "I didn't know you could kiss like that."

Topanga rests a hand on Shawn's shoulder and smirks.  "I know, right?"

Shawn narrows his eyes and looks between them several times before he smiles and says, "You told her, didn't you, Cor?"

Cory shrugs.  "She's my wife."

Topanga's smirk turns completely mischievous.

"Oh, god," Shawn mutters.  He pants suddenly feel a touch too tight.

"Although I still think you should give thought to going back to therapy, I think I have a more entertaining idea that can ease some of your insecurities, Shawn."

His knees go weak, and his fluttering heart adds to the notion that he might collapse to the floor at any given second.

"Cory?" she asks.

He grins that same evil grin, and all Shawn can think is, _these_ _married fucking idiots._

"Come to bed with us," Topanga whispers.

Shawn doesn't need to be told twice.

 

.

 

When Shawn wakes up between them wearing nothing but a pair of Topanga's panties, he thinks it's a dream.  But the grogginess fades and he can hear his heart drumming in his ears, harmonizing with Topanga's breathing and Cory's snores.  A nagging fear still whispers at him that this is too good to be true, but he shuts it up by snuggling closer to Cory and falling back asleep.

After he wakes up again and has time to process what happened, he does rationalize his chances that this will become a normal thing, and he doesn't think they're very good.  However, the next few weeks prove him wrong.  Not only does he continue sleeping with the two of them, but he starts to _just sleep_ with them too.  He helps him with the groceries, and when he gets a freelance gig writing for a literary magazine, he joins the ranks of a provider in this relationship - whatever it is.  At the beginning of August, they invite him out for his first date of many.

Shawn can't believe how lucky he is - not only to have one person who loves him like this, but _two_.  All his life he'd fought for Cory and Topanga to stay together, and he never quite knew why until now.  If he couldn't have one, he couldn't have the other, and he needs both of them to be happy.

He's scared things will change soon enough, but they don't.  They all move into a new, bigger apartment together.  They buy a two bedroom, and Shawn expects to have a room to himself, even if he's not entirely comfortable with the idea.  The never really discussed what this relationship was, but when they buy an apartment with two bedrooms, he can't think of any other reason other than Cory and Topanga have had enough of him butting in.  However, Cory catches him once he's moved about half of his things into the second bedroom.

"Shawn," he laughs, leaning in the doorway.  "You know we bought a king-sized mattress, right?"

"Yeah," Shawn replies, stuffing his hands in his pockets.  "What does that have to do with anything?"

"It means that there's more than enough room for you to stay with me and Topanga."

Shawn stands still for a moment, regarding Cory with suspicion.  All this time, and he still isn't ever completely sure that Cory and Topanga want him.

"Yeah, alright," he say.  "Give me a hand with these boxes, Cor?"

Cory smiles and grabs the first box he sees from the ground.  "Welcome to our new home, Shawn."

 

.

 

It's bliss, but for Shawn, that means disaster is coming.  The universe has always made the decision that Shawn Hunter is not allowed to be happy, and this time it doesn't fall short to the expectation.  They've been living in the new apartment for just a week when they find out Topanga's pregnant.  Cory's thrilled, but there's a persistent lump in Shawn's throat.  Cory wants to start on the nursery right away, but when he comes in the next morning to start planning everything out, he finds Shawn sleeping on the floor.  Cory helps him back to bed, and it doesn't happen again.  Neither of them talk about it.

For nine months, no one ever tries to find out who the real father is, but Shawn knows.  Both Cory and Topanga insist it's better just to wait, to keep the mystery.  They'll both act as fathers anyway - what's the point? But when little Riley breaks her mother's water, Shawn realizes the point.

He's the third person to hold Riley when she's born, and she's beautiful.  She's so small, so fragile, and Shawn tries to think of another time he's ever held anything so precious.  He can't.  He cries, because even now, just under an hour after she was brought into the world, Shawn knows Riley Matthews will do amazing things.  He knows because Cory is the father, not him.  It's clear biologically, but it's going to remain clear socially and emotionally because Shawn has made a decision.

For the last time in his life, he's leaving.

Riley isn't even ten pounds, and she looks exactly like her father.  Her real, biological father.  Cory, not Shawn.  Never Shawn.  He'll never let her think of him that way.  He'll never let her get that close, because she deserves so much better.  Riley, Cory, Topanga - they all deserve better.  They're a family now, and Shawn is done trying to shoehorn his way into something that was never meant for him.

He packs his bags that night and doesn't look back.

 

.

 

The next few years are not kind to him, and he's not kind to himself.  He knows it's a bad idea when he spends the night after Riley's birth in a bar, but every inch of him is screaming not to feel.  He lets the alcohol numb him, but in the morning, he only feels worse.

Shawn's dealt with a lot of pain in his life.  He dealt with a father who never thought he was good enough, one mother who lied to him his entire life and another who never even tried to know him.  He dealt with the death of his father right when it seemed like they were starting to understand each other and he began the rest of his life as an orphan.  People like Alan Matthews and Jonathan Turner came, but they went too.  In Angela he thought he'd finally found someone who would stay with him forever, but she left just like the others, and now Shawn's alone just like he was meant to be..

His relationship with Cory and Topanga softened him, made him feel like maybe he wasn't a worthless piece of shit.  He thought for a moment, a single split moment, that maybe he could be happy.  Maybe he could keep this feeling, hold onto the idea that could amount to something and matter to somebody.  But all he was ever doing was avoiding reality.  No one needs him around to ruin their life.

Shawn knows drinking isn't going to solve all his problems.  He saw alcohol destroy his father.  But Shawn is alone and he doesn't have a family to disappoint, and he really doesn't care if he destroys himself.  In fact, he welcomes it.

It doesn't even start slow.  Shawn works the graveyard shift at a packaging plant, and during the day he drinks until he passes out.  It takes a year and a half for him to lose his job, and then he starts maxing out all his credit cards at bars.  He doesn't leave for days at a time.  He drinks whenever the bar is open and spends closing time in the alley outside, crashing on trash bags.

Sometimes, when drinking isn't enough, he uses sex, too.  He picks up girls early on in the night, and as he gets older, men join the mix.  It's weird at first, and he feels ashamed, but the more men he finds, the more he wants them. 

(Sometimes he does try more unorthodox things.  Over the years, he breaks out Veronica once or twice, and he enjoys it so much that he'll wear panties for months at a time, and those are the months he sleeps with men).

Usually he drinks more when he sleeps with men.  Whether he's Veronica or not.  He can't stomach it, knowing what he his dad would say, knowing that all the people he used to hang out with would pound him into the dirt.  It makes him sick.  It's a vicious cycle - using sex for relief when the alcohol doesn't, but being ashamed of having it, and then having to drink more just to carry on.

Jack doesn't show up until things get really bad.

He calls ahead of time, and in hindsight, Shawn should have heeded the warning.  He doesn't.  He waits for Jack in the dim light of his kitchen, throwing back at least two six packs and an entire bottle of vodka.  When Jack knocks, Shawn's on the floor, covered in vomit and breath slowing.  Jack breaks down the door within ten minutes and rushes inside.

"Shit, shit, shit," Jack hisses and he drops to his knees beside his baby brother.  Once he feels the weak pulse, he calls for an ambulance.  Choking on his sobs, Jack cradles Shawn, holding his brother against his chest and cursing himself for not seeing any of this coming.

The ambulance arrives in what feels like years, and Jack is pushed around from paramedic to paramedic trying to explain what's happened.  All he knows is this - Shawn almost drank himself to death.

Because he's edging into a panic attack, and Shawn is his little brother, the paramedics let Jack in the front.  While one drives, another monitors him to make sure he keeps breathing and doesn't pass out.  Nothing really helps when he knows Shawn is trying to be revived in the back.

The same paramedic stays with him for a solid hour after they get to the hospital.  Shawn is taken back for detox and organ support, and Jack is left in the waiting room, dizzy and exhausted.  When he's breathing normally, the paramedic leaves him, and it doesn't take long for Jack to fall asleep.

When he wakes up, a doctor is waiting for him.

"How are you feeling, Jack?"

"Sore," he mutters, cracking his neck.  "How's my brother?"

"His vitals are stable, albeit low.  He's in a coma, and we expect him to wake within the next few days, but you have to know that his body has suffered a lot of trauma.  There's a chance things could turn sour."

Jack nods, jaw set.  He's going to ignore the last part and hold onto the fact that Shawn's stable.  "Can - can I see him?"

The doctor nods and leads him.

All in all, Shawn looks terrible.  First and foremost, Jack notices that since they'd last seen each other, Shawn had lost a substantial amount of weight.  He's lean, leaner than he was in high school even, and that scares the shit out of Jack.  He's pale, and Shawn's always been pale, but now he's practically translucent.  His eyes, and the curve of his cheekbones are so dark, skin stretching tightly over the bones and sinking deep into the trenches.  He looks dead.

Jack's gut twists, and he reaches into his pocket for his cell phone.  He can't go through this alone.

 

.

 

Waking up feels like pushing himself through a blender.  Every cell in his body _aches_ , and what little light leaking into his room makes his eyes burn.  As his body becomes aware of itself, there are several things Shawn notices.  First is the nasal plugs delivering him oxygen, then it's the wires taped to his chest, and last it's the fact that there is someone sitting next to his bed, reading.

He groans, and the person whips their head to look at him.

Shawn blinks and wonders if something's happened to his eyesight.  "Jack?  What the hell happened?"

"Oh my god," Jack breathes, and he throws himself out of his chair.  He trips forward and a shaking hand comes to rest against his brother's face.  "Oh my god, you're awake.  Thank god you're awake - _holy shit_."

"Jack?" Shawn asks again.

"You've - you've been in a coma for four days," Jack whispers, pulling his hand back.  "You - you nearly killed yourself, Shawn."

Shawn blinks.  "What?"

"Alcohol poisoning," Jack says.  "You were on the floor when I got to your apartment, and I - I thought you were fucking dead, Shawn.  I - "  He swallows hard and is subsequently interrupted by the door to Shawn's room swinging open.  Eric Matthews steps through, and Shawn's heart monitor speeds up.

"Oh, fuck, Jack.  You didn't."

"Shawn - "

"Eric, please tell me Cory doesn't know anything about this."

Eric looks between the two of them, alarmed.  "He and Topanga are on their way."

"Goddamnit, Jack."

The monitors speed up even more, and Jack moves forward.  He holds his hands up and starts babbling.  "Now - now wait, Shawn.  I was just - you shouldn't be alone right now.  I - I wanted you to have your family around you.  I wanted - "

"They're not my fucking family, Jack," Shawn hisses.  "I threw that away."

"Maybe you think that," Jack counters, "but they - "

"I can't believe you're doing this to them - uprooting them from their lives and bringing them here to what?  Take care of me like they always do?  Make me their responsibility?  Make me a burden one more time to really rub in what a failure I am?"

"Now, wait a second, Shawn," Jack yells.  "You did this to them, not me.  You're the one who drank all that shit.  You're the one who threw everything away, not me.  I'm trying to help you."

"Hey, hey, hey, hey," Eric says, crossing the room.  He grabs Jack by the shoulder and starts dragging him backward.  "Jack, you're really not helping right now, and Shawn - Jack's right about Cory and Topanga.  They care about you, and they want to be here."

"Bullshit," Shawn mutters under his breath.

"Come on," Eric says.  "Let's go cool off, buddy."  And he drags Jack towards the door.

Shawn lays his head back and closes his eyes.  "Goddamnit, Jack. You shouldn't have saved me."

With a grunt, Jack rips himself from Eric's grip and storms across the room.  He rounds on Shawn with his finger pointed, but when he opens his mouth, he falters.  Most of the anger drains from face as he actually looks at his brother, replaced with unbelievable sadness.

"Shawn Hunter," he chokes.  "Don't you _ever_ say something like that again."

"It's true," Shawn fires back.  "I don't mean anything to anybody, and you would have saved us all a ton a trouble if you had just left me there on the floor."

Huffing through a long, shaky breath, Jack collapses back into his chair.  He cross his arms over his chest and lets his head fall into one of his hands.  Eric stands over him, waiting.  When Jack is able to breathe again, he looks up at Shawn with lackluster eyes.

"Why do you think so low of yourself, Shawn?  Why, when everyone is rushing here to see you, do you still think that nobody cares about you?"

Shawn doesn't even blink.  "I know the truth.  I know that if it really came to it, nobody would care to put me first.  Not even second.  Probably not even twentieth."

Jack rubs trembling fingers across his mouth.  "You don't think so, huh?  Even though Cory and Topanga are dropping everything and coming here, even though Eric just drove ten hours straight to get here, even though I haven't left this room since the doctors let me in other than to get something to eat or go back to my hotel to shower and change clothes.  I've been sleeping here every night.  I haven't left your bedside if I could help it.  Hell, Eric's been running errand after errand for me because I can't _not_ have you in my line of vision.  Shawn, really?  You don't think that I put you first?  You're my _brother_."

Shawn scoffs.  "Yeah, and it took you sixteen years to introduce yourself."

Jack presses his lips firm together.  "Shawn, you know what held me back."

"You know, I never understood that," Shawn starts.  "I never understood why you and your parents kept yourselves so distant from me.  I mean - they bought me clothes, they paid for my tuition, but they couldn't just come around every once in awhile?  They couldn't check up on me?  Even though your mom knew - oh, she knew, Jack.  She _knew_ that Chet was abusive and - and neglectful and did she care where I was?  No.  Did your step-dad care, Jack?  Did _you?_ "

Shawn's heart monitor is starting to reach dangerous levels, and Eric looks frantically around the room and out the window, checking for a doctor, for a nurse, for anyone.  Some heads are starting to look up, but no one's made a move yet.

Jack doesn't have an answer.  He sits back with his lips shut tight and his eyes wide with wetness.  His voice is strangled when he finally manages to choke out, "I'm sorry."

A sigh works its way up Shawn's throat, and as a nurse steps into the room, his monitor starts to ease.

"Everything alright, Mr. Hunter?" she asks, and she looks at both of them.

"Yeah," Jack mutters.  "Yeah, I'm just - I'm just going to, uh - "

He slips past her, out into the hall.  As he rushes past the windows, Shawn can see that a hand covers his mouth and his eyes are squeezed shut.  Eric looks after him, unsure, and then back to Shawn.

"Go," Shawn says.  "Tell him I'm sorry, Eric.  I didn't - I didn't mean to take it out on him."

Eric nods.  "I got you, buddy."

 

.

 

Cory and Topanga aren't the only ones to visit.  Alan, Amy, and even Morgan come too.  They all wish Shawn well and tell him how much they love him and want to help him and how they're going to support when he goes to rehab, but all he does is feel like absolute shit.  He's twenty-four now and he's still ruining things for everyone.

Jack is the one to sign him off to rehab, and it comes as a surprise to everyone when Shawn actually enjoys his time there.  He thinks a lot about his week as an alcoholic in high school (as well as the slip-ups in college) and the therapist he saw that summer.  The doctors and nurses he meets in the treatment center are just like her.  They don't judge and they don't condescend and it takes three months, but eventually Shawn is able to shake all the desires to fix his problems with alcohol.  He learns new coping skills, and for awhile he believes he might actually have a chance.  But the self-hatred that's ingrained him will never go away, whether he's drinking or not, and he knows this.  Maybe he won't get drunk anymore, but he'll never be able to stomach looking in the mirror.

On his last day, he feels almost sad to be packing up.  He didn't bring much; just clothes and some keepsakes.  He folds his jeans and t-shirts and tucks them into his bag, and with care, he pulls the pictures of Cory and Topanga from the wall and stows them back inside his wallet.   There are couple pictures from Riley and Jack's daughter as well, and he puts them in the smaller pocket at the front of his backpack.

In the lobby, he expects Jack to be waiting for him, but what he finds makes his stomach turn.  Cory and Topanga stand there with stupid grins plastered to their faces and Shawn wants to die.  Inside that ward, he promised himself not to mess up anymore lives, and yet Cory and Topanga are just asking for it at this point - and they really do on the way home.

After hugs and well wishes they all pile into the car.  Shawn sits in the back like the child he makes himself be, and Cory and Topanga whisper in hushed voices up front.  Halfway back to their apartment, Topanga turns around.

"Shawn?" she says.  "There's something we both want to ask you."

Shawn peels his eyes away from the landscape and looks at her with heavy lids.  "Yes?"

"Would you move in with us, Shawnie?" Cory asks.  "We have a spare bedroom for you."

After all this time, the idea of taking the guest room stings, but he holds back for other reasons.  He can't do this to them again.  He can't mess up their relationship and make them look after him.  He's a grown man now, and even though he hasn't been acting like it, he wants to.  This wouldn't be a good place to start.  "I - I don' t know guys, I mean - "

"Well - at least for the weekend," Topanga pleads.  "It's been a long time and you deserve a little fun after three months in the hospital."

Shawn sighs.  "Okay, but just the weekend."

 

.

 

Riley is three, small, and talkative.  With time, Shawn sees that she's also abnormally perceptive for a child so young.  At the Matthews', Shawn spends most of his time in the guest room or curled up on the window seat overlooking the living room. He keeps a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and stares outside, wishing he could be anywhere else.  (Truthfully, he would like to stay, but he knows that he can't, and the longer he's here the more it hurts.)

Shawn doesn't sleep his first night there.  He stays by the window, wishing he had a drink in his hand.  The city is alive with lights, but inside Shawn is only a darkness, eating away at any happiness that was able to survive.  At six in the morning, Shawn hears the floorboards creak down the hall.  He hears Riley, and who is undoubtedly Topanga.  He listens for a few minutes and argues with the lump in his throat.  To his surprise, Riley's little feet carry her fast into the living room, and she hops up on the cushions beside him.

"Hi, Uncle Shawn," she says cheerfully, and he winces.

"Hey, Riley."

"It makes me really happy that you're here," she says with a smile.  Shawn feels like sticking a knife through his chest.  "You're funner than Daddy, and you make me laugh a lot."

"Really?" Shawn asks.  He's only visited a few times, and he never really thought he was good with Riley.

She nods, confident, before crawling across the cushions until she's settled in his lap.  Her eyes turn up at him, and she frowns.  "But you're not happy, Uncle Shawn."

He blinks, surprised.  "What makes you say that, Riley?"

"Well, Mommy and Daddy said that you were sick awhile ago, and that you're better now, but I don't know.  When I'm better, I just wanna play.  You don't wanna play."

"Is that what you want, Riles?" he asks.  "Because I'll play with you."

"No, no," Riley says, and she wraps a small, chubby arm around his.  "You don't want to.  I don't want you to play with me if you don't want to."

"Why don't you think I want to?"

"You're too sad, Uncle Shawn.  What's wrong?"

Shawn sighs heavily and uses the hand Riley hasn't claimed to push the snarly hair from her face.  "You wouldn't understand, Riley.  It's grown-up stuff."

"I'm almost a grown-up," Riley argues, and Shawn laughs.  She giggles and smiles wide.

"What?" Shawn asks.

"You laughed," Riley says.  "That's good.  You shouldn't be sad, Uncle Shawn.  I want you to be happy."

Shawn nods, and feels the lump resurface in his throat.  "I want to be happy too, Riley.  Thank you for saying that.   You're a good kid."

"Riley? Where are you?" Topanga's voice calls from down the hall.

Riley sighs like it's the most difficult thing her life to turn and yell "I'm out here!  With Uncle Shawn!"

Topanga comes in her bathrobe and her hair in a loose ponytail.  She stops when she sees her daughter and crosses her arms over chest with a grin.  Riley smiles back and kicks her feet against Shawn's thighs.

"Didn't sleep, I see," she remarks, and Shawn nods sadly.  She heaves a deep breath.  "Well come on, Riles.  I'll cook you some breakfast.  And tell Uncle Shawn he's welcome, too."

Riley hops down eagerly from his lap, but she grabs his hand in the process and tries to pull him after her.  "Come on - Mom's making _pancakes_."

Shawn lets her drag him to the kitchen table, and he wipes the tears from his eyes right before he sits down.  Even though he left her, nothing is able to keep him from fiercely loving Riley like the daughter he never let himself have.

 

.

 

Cory and Topanga are not too keen on letting him go.  On Monday morning he comes to the breakfast table with his bags, just to make his intentions clear.  Both Topanga and Cory stop what they're doing and share a look before either one of them opens their mouth.

"Uh - Shawn," Topanga starts.

"You're not leaving yet, are you?" Cory asks.

Shawn raises an eyebrow.  "I told you I was only staying the weekend."

"Shawn," Topanga says, voice tainted with disbelief.  "You - you almost - " she looks across the room to where Riley is playing on the floor with dolls.  She lowers her voice.  "You almost _died_."

"Yeah," Shawn says it like it's a question, like there's a _so what?_ that's supposed to be somewhere in there.  "Then I went to rehab.  I don't know why you guys are so concerned."

"Because, Shawnie," Cory says.  "You almost died."

"I remember that pretty clearly," Shawn says with ice.  "But I'm still alive, and I'm fine."

"You always say that," Topanga says, and Shawn sees the scary mothering side coming out of her, "and you never are."

Shawn takes a deep breath and massages his temples.  "Look, I'm a grown man.  I don't need you guys to take care of me, and I wouldn't make you.  I'm not going to be too far, I promise.  Because of the  safety statement I signed in the hospital, I'm contractually obligated to see a psychiatrist in the city for at least six months.  If I miss an appointment, then Jack's allowed to put me back in rehab."  He says the last sentence sourly, his lip twitching.

Cory and Topanga share another glance, and Shawn can tell neither of them are really convinced, but they know better than to believe they'll convince Shawn of anything if his mind is already set.

"Okay," Topanga surrenders.  "But if you ever need us - if you're in trouble, or if you just want come have a little fun, or whatever - don't be afraid to call."

"Or just drop in," Cory adds.

Topanga nods.  "You know that you're always welcome. "

"I know," Shawn says.  He scoots forward and looks at his empty plate.  "I know."

They eat breakfast in silence, and before Shawn heads out the door, both Cory and Topanga hug him so hard he's afraid he'll snap in half.  He hates that they're worried, but that's another reason he has to go.  They have their own problems, and he can deal with his by himself.

 

.

 

Shawn tries to visit at least once every two months, if not once a month for the next couple of years.  He scores multiple writing gigs across the tri-state area, and he starts to form a routine for himself.  The more articles he writes, the more he drifts from New York City.  Three months pass without him visiting, and neither Cory or Topanga have called, so Shawn gets out of the northeast.  When he does visit again (six months after last time), he doesn't talk much to Riley.  Now five years old, she's starting to see through his facade. 

He visits town after town after town.  During the summer, he even spends six weeks in Europe.  He stays in Munich, in Stockholm, in Vienna, in Florence, and in Istanbul, and by the end of the trip, he starts to realize something.  Being away isn't enough anymore.  No matter where he is, he's still alone.

The perfect life was dangled in front of him but he batted it away, and Shawn can't find happiness in anything else.  The more he thinks about it, the more he convinces himself that his life is only going to keep going downhill from here. 

His trips start to take on a pattern.  He stays in cheaper motels and smokes cigarettes outside until his mouth burns.  He would drink, but he knows that would only make everything worse.  He already hates himself enough, he doesn't need any more reminders that he's doomed to be his father.  He fucked up his relationships with everyone he ever cared about.  He left and he's starting to think he won't ever go back.  And he scared everyone with a near-death.  He should have just died.

And this is how it all starts.

On Riley's sixth birthday, he tries to kill himself.  He loads the old, rusty handgun he bought with the last of his fives and ones at the pawn shop down the road and points it to his temple.  When he pulls the trigger, nothing happens.  The trigger doesn't even move.  It's stuck, and the gun is broken.  Now Shawn understands why he was able to get the gun so cheap.  He's so heartbroken that he throws the gun across the room and sinks to his knees.  One more year, and Shawn still can't do a goddamned thing right.

Cory calls in the morning, asks where he was.  ("I know you didn't RSVP, but I guess I was just hoping.")  Shawn tells him he's been out all week with the flu, and the crying and screaming he did last night make him sound like he's telling the truth.

No one ever finds out, and a year later, Shawn's at Cory's door, holding a present for Riley and trying not to think about why he wasn't here the last time.  Cory hugs him tightly and shows him where to put his gift.  Throughout the day he mingles with Eric and Jack and Rachel and even Alan and Amy.  For a good hour, he lets Joshua ramble to him and allows the "conversation" to keep him isolated from everyone.

It's been hard today.  Every time he lets himself become unoccupied, he relives last year.  The memory is threatening to burst forth from his skin, and he can't hide the very same emotions he felt that day erupting inside him.  It feels like his soul is screaming, and either everyone is ignoring the sound, or they can't hear him.  He doesn't know which is worse.

It's late in the evening, when everyone except Cory's parents has gone, that Topanga approaches him.

"Are you okay, Shawn?" she asks.  "You haven't seemed like yourself today."

Shawn laughs.  "I'm hardly around.  How can you even know what I'm like anymore, Topanga?"  He sighs and rubs his hands together, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

Topanga sits down beside him on the couch and rubs his back.  "You know you're always welcome to stay if you're feeling lonely."

Shawn nods.  "I know."

"Well, I'm here if you want to talk, Shawn."

He presses his lips together.  A rush of emotion makes him open his mouth, because he knows that he might actually burst into tears and he'd like to explain why before it happens.  "Actually, Topanga, I - "

He's interrupted by Cory entering the room with Riley on his shoulders.

"Hey guys," he says brightly.  "Topanga, she can't handle staying quiet.  She wants to tell Shawn."

Topanga looks back at them.  "Honey, can we wait a moment?  Shawn wanted to talk to me about - "

"Uncle Shawn, Uncle Shawn!" Riley yells.  "I'm gonna be a big sister!"

Topanga's eyes shut and she lets out a sigh.  Shawn looks between the three of them and feels awful for several reasons.

"That's right," Topanga says, and Shawn can see that she's forcing her smile.  "I'm pregnant, Shawn.  Cory and I are having another baby."

Cory grins from ear to ear.  "It's a boy."

Shawn swallows hard and pulls his lips into a painful smile.  "That's - that's great, you guys.  I'm real happy for you."  He looks to his watch with haste.  "Well, um - it's getting late.  I should - I should go."

He stands up and makes way for the door.  Topanga shoots after him.  "Wait, Shawn - "

He pauses with his hand on the doorknob.  "I'll - I'll see you guys soon."  And without another word, he's gone, the slam of the door echoing in his absence.  Right before the lock clicks, Topanga thinks she sounds something eerily similar to a choked sob.

 

.

 

It's a terrible idea, an awful idea.  He's been sober for four years, but it feels like the world is crumbling underneath his feet and Shawn can't hold on any longer.  He stops at the liquor store on the way back to his motel and buys two bottles of vodka.  He won't even finish the first one, but it doesn't matter. 

At the motel, he turns on the television just so he doesn't have to hate himself in silence.  He drinks half the bottle in an hour, and the way his head swims makes him remember what it felt like to overdose.  A sense of peace settles in his veins, and he doesn't realize what he's doing until he's got his Swiss Army knife in his hand.

He was careful about the gun.  He chose it because it was the cheapest, and he didn't have much money left.  He bought the bullets cheap too.  He bought more than he needed, but it wouldn't really matter.  He even wrote a note.  All it said was, "I'm sorry," but at least it was something.

Now he doesn't have anything but the way he feels inside - all twisted up and warped to some unrecognizable monster.  He feels miles and miles away from anyone he ever cared about and the hopelessness that presses down his shoulders is endless.  He knows it by now.  He won't ever belong, he won't ever be needed, and he won't ever be happy. 

Shawn rolls up his sleeve and takes a long swig of vodka.  He's not even sorry.  No one will miss him.

 

.

 

In the end, Shawn doesn't do it.  Once the blood starts flowing from the first incision, he panics.  He throws the knife down on the table and topples over his chair as he rushes to the bathroom.  He grabs one of the white towels and presses it over the cut.  He sits, terrified, on the toilet for a solid ten minutes before he actually looks at what he did.

There's nothing.

He barely bled through the towel, only because he kept the same spot pressed to his wrist the entire time.  The blood has stopped now, and a crust of a scab is starting to form.  He breathes a sigh of relief and tosses the towel in the sink.  Outside, he smokes a cigarette and buys a bottle of Coke from the vending machine three rooms down from his.  It isn't until he's returned to his room and collapsed onto the still-made bed that he breaks down.

 

.

 

For the next six years, Shawn dedicates his life to his career.  He goes back to his psychiatrist and sees her at least once a month on and off - usually whenever he's within twelve hour driving distance of New York City. 

It's hard, when he has an appointment, not to just drop by the Matthews', but he's decided on a compromise.  He's only going to see them on holidays, or if they invite him for something special, but he'll never, never just drop in.  His emotions can't handle that, and he can't risk getting so close that he'll break the promises he's made to himself.

It takes him six years (well thirty-four, twenty-eight of which were spent fucking up), for him lay down a life that he's at least a little proud to call his own.  He's not exactly happy, but he's surviving, and that's more than he's ever done.

All it takes is one day to knock him over backwards, and that's Christmas 2014.

He hasn't seen everyone since last Christmas, and he's more than eager to see what Cory and Topanga's place looks like now.  It's easily better than the senior Matthew's place, which is plagued with too many awful memories.  He wants to keep a cleaner head this year, wants to actually let himself be happy to see the people he cares about.

He thinks he gets off to a pretty good start.  He's just a minute behind everyone else and is able to surprise Cory.  Topanga, Alan, Amy, and Josh all greet him warmly.  Riley's a year older, growing taller than he could ever predict, and Auggie is still adorable.  It's the kid he doesn't know who completely derails him.

He thinks it's all friendly teasing, just fun and games, and then that kid - Maya, he learns - blurts out the most awful thing she could say.

"Why do you make Riley feel bad?"

He actually feels the smile melt off his face.  Here he was, feeling like a teenager again with Cory at his side, and he's slapped back into the reality of his absence.

"I don't mean to," is all that comes out and he feels stupid the moment it leaves his lips.  He's more than grateful when Cory comes to his rescue, because Cory knows.  Cory understands.  He might not know why, or the extent to which all of this affects him, but Cory knows that Shawn's uncomfortable, and the self-hatred he's barely got a cap on will burst if Maya doesn't _shut up_.

And it does, so he storms up from the dinner table and devises a plan as he's walking.  When he looks back, Riley and Maya are staring at him.

"Are you coming, or what?"

They scuttle after him, and Maya doesn't stop nitpicking.  She pounds him with every word, and he's starting to understand why everyone thinks they're so similar.  She knows him too well, and she knows how to hate him almost as well as he hates himself.  She drops the bomb when she makes a comment about how he's ditched everyone, and Riley, so like her father, butts in.  Shawn unleashes it then.

He doesn't think he can explain.  These kids are too young, and he can't put that kind of pressure on them.  But Riley, her birthday - it's hard to be the uncle he wants to be when everything about her brings up these awful memories and feelings that he'd give anything to forget.  It's not her fault, and he tells her that, but it's hard not to associate her with so many bad days of his life.  He left the city on her birthday, he was in the hospital for alcohol poisoning on her birthday, he tried to kill himself on her birthday.  He won't ever tell her that, but he can't sit here and lie to her face that there isn't any kind of negative association.  He tells her about her actual _birth_ day and decides that's enough.

But of course, _of course_ , she hits the nail on the head when she asks if he feels lost every time he looks at her.  He could kick himself, but his answer doesn't faze her, and she goes on with whatever scheme is forming in her brain.

At first, he's afraid she knows more than he's told her, but he's only admitted that he really misses Cory, that he feels lost and uncertain, that he feels like he's missing everything he ever wanted  when Riley pulls Cory from the room and sits down that godforsaken friend of hers in front of him.  She makes Shawn tell Maya about his parents and he tastes the bile when says, "Okay, fine - my dad was in and out half the time - "

And he plans to go on, but Maya cuts him off and surprises him.

"I got half a mom."

"Well, my mom took off when I was a kid."

"My dad has another family."

The anger screaming in his veins propels the, "I would never let anybody grow up like that."

"You wouldn't?"

"No."

"Oh."  She goes quiet for a moment, and Shawn bites his lip.  Every ounce of anger he ever harbored for his father is rushing back, and he wants to vomit.  "You wouldn't?"

He hears the echo, and he doesn't quite register it at first.  "No," he says, like he's proving a point, but then he catches Maya looking at him with that hopeful look in her eye, the one he used to know so well, and he reels.  "Oh."

And that's why he invites her with.  He makes it look like it's Riley's doing, but it's like there's a giant neon arrow pointed at Maya, saying, _Here's your chance, your way back in.   Here's how you make it up to everyone.  Save this girl.  Save her from the same fate._

Maybe it will be easy, maybe it won't, but Shawn knows there's only thing he has to do, and that's love her.

 

.

 

At the hotel, there are the Matthews, Shawn, and Maya.  Given that the Matthews take a room as a family, Maya and Shawn get shoved together.  Shawn's nervous; he can't hide that.  Maya is too much like him, and it's terrifying.  She's so young, so bitter, but he can still see the glowing sense of hope behind her dark eyes.  He doesn't have that anymore, and he's going to protect hers as fiercely as he can.

Though Auggie is pretty mature for his age, he's still five years old, and he needs to be constantly occupied.  Cory, Topanga, or both of them are always with him, and since whatever activities he desires are usually far from what Riley and Maya want to do, Shawn is left with the barely teenage girls.  He takes them out for sight-seeing.

They bundle up and go hiking on Friday.  Riley's nervous and overdressed, her blanket of a scarf nearly blocking her entire face from view.  Maya roughs it in her pea coat, a beanie, and pair of warm gloves.  She counters Riley's whining with sharp points of sarcasm, and more than once, Shawn finds himself laughing at her.  He looks back the last time to see Maya grinning at him with a warmth in her eyes.  He stops to let her catch up and claps her on the back as he takes the tail of the group.

On Saturday, Shawn takes them to see an old, foliage-infested castle.  He spends far too much time taking photographs, ones he knows he won't even use for the site, but it's just so beautiful he can't help it.  He's already taken at least a hundred before he notices that someone else is clicking.  He looks behind him to see that Riley's using the camera he gave her.

"Hey," he says with a smile.  "Good to see you're putting it to use."

Riley pulls the camera from down from her face and smiles back.  "It's so nice.  These are, like, _professional_ pictures."

Shawn laughs.  "Well, you did get the camera from a pro."  He snaps the lapel of his coat.

Maya snorts and shakes her head.  Shawn watches her look around.  Her eyes move in a clear path across her line of vision, and then they repeat.  She squints slightly and Shawn fixes his feet in the leafy ground.

"Let me guess," he says.  "You're eyeing up a painting.:

Her eyes scrutinize him now.  "Maybe."

"Hey, I'm not judging."  He holds his hands up in surrender.  "I wish I could paint, but I can't.  You're lucky kid."

Maya just rolls her eyes.

"Speaking of which - you should show me some of your works some time.  I'd - I'd love to see them."

Maya purses her lips before answering.  "Stick around and I'll show you."

Shawn feels a twinge in his chest.  He swallows and licks his lips.  "You don't have to worry.  I will be.  Uh - when my job lets me, that is."

Maya doesn't say anything else.  She stuffs her hands in her pocket and walks forward, keeping her head up.  "Come on, guys.  Let's actually get inside this thing instead of staring at it all day."

After that, Shawn is pretty much unhinged.  He still doesn't know what exactly Maya thinks of him, and that's utterly terrifying.  If he were Maya, with all of the shit she's heard about him and how much of a letdown he clearly is, he'd hate him, but he's a little biased so maybe he isn't the best judge of character.  He wants Maya to like him, he knows that much, and there's clearly a small part of her that wants to like him too.  He just has to find a way to reach that so he can give her the same affection he craves in return.

That night, he watches in secret as Maya sketches.  After the third picture, he understands that she's mapping out possible paintings of that castle.  The pencil works fast, and details he hadn't even noticed in person appear on the page. 

He can't help it when he blurts out, "That's really good, Maya."

She jumps out of her skin, and she tries to muster up an angry face, but she's clearly pleased that Shawn approves.  "Thanks," she says with tight lips, and quickly returns to her work.

On Sunday, everyone stays together.  They spend the afternoon in the park.  Shawn lounges on a bench with his camera, keeping it warm in his arms most of the time, and taking pictures when he dares.  He gets easily distracted.  Cory joins him while Topanga pushes Auggie on the swingset, and they try impossibly to catch up.

When Auggie comes running over to them, Shawn can see that Topanga is already exhausted.  He offers to play with Auggie, and Topanga is more than eager to let him.  She takes his spot next to Cory and leans against her husband's shoulder.  Shawn lets Auggie loose on the play equipment and chases him around from the outside.  Auggie's shrill laughter instills the oddest sort of pain in his chest.  He doesn't realize until later that it's just his heart aching with love.

In the evening, everyone goes out to eat at the highest-rated bar and grill in the town.  Shawn sits sandwiched between Riley and Maya and he doesn't mind one bit.  In fact, he enjoys butting in on their pathetic teenage conversations.  He makes sure he isn't too harsh, but Maya serves his ass to him anyway.  She's got quite a mouth, and Shawn couldn't be more proud.

Back in the motel, Shawn assumes the girls would be exhausted, but he severely underestimates the power of the teenage metabolism.  He's going to stay up late finishing his article, but he doesn't expect it when the girls stay up with him, watching a movie on Riley's laptop and laughing loudly every other minute.  It doesn't really distract him.  In all honesty, it makes him feel content.

By one, Riley is passed out, but Maya is still awake, scrolling through her phone.  Shawn gets up to use the bathroom, and she starts, hand flying to her chest.

"Shit, I thought you were asleep."

"I was just finishing up the article," Shawn explains.  He intends to continue on to the bathroom, but he stops and turns with his finger pointed and his eyes narrow.  "Hey . . . watch your mouth."

Maya laughs.  "Don't get your panties in a twist, Grandpa."

It's all Shawn can do to keep from blushing, since he is, in fact, wearing panties.  He just mutters, "Touche," and carries on to the bathroom.

When he comes back out, Maya has migrated to his bed.  He slows his steps and stares at her curiously.

"What - "

"I wanna talk," she says.

"Okay . . . " he says slowly.  He eases himself onto the bed next to her.  "About what?"

"Why you left," Maya replies, and Shawn winces.

"Maya, we already went through this - "

"No," Maya says.  "There's more to it than what you told Riley, and I know it.  You know it.  We both know it."

Shawn sighs.  "What do you want?"

Maya straightens up.  "You told Riley that you felt out of place, but I've been watching you this weekend, and it's like - if I were anyone else just watching you from the sidelines, I'd assume you'd been living at the Matthews since Riley was born.  Everything is just so natural for you.  I don't understand."

"Oh, god," Shawn groans.  He can't have this conversation.  Most people his age would judge the hell out of his situation, but a thirteen-year-old girl?  There's no way she'd understand.  After a long moment of consideration, Shawn begins again, choosing his words as carefully as he can.  "Maya, I - I've known Cory and Topanga my whole life.  It was always the three of us my entire childhood, but it was like I'd never really seen that we had grown up until Topanga told me and Cory she was pregnant with Riley.  It just - it wasn't right for me to stick around - "

"Why?" Maya demands.  "You're so good with Auggie, and you've managed to turn around your relationship with Riley in what - one weekend?"

Shawn sighs again, heavier.  "I wanted to stay, Maya, believe me.  I wanted to be the wacky, live-in uncle and take care of the kids too, but - I felt like I was cheating Cory and Topanga of the life they wanted, and - and I'm just not the best influence.  I - I'm not trustworthy, I make bad decisions pretty consistently, I mean, hell - I was a pretty horrible alcoholic for years after Riley was born, and when I would visit - I'm so thankful she can't remember that far back."

"When's the last time you drank?"

"I've been sober for six years, but that's not - "

Maya scoffs so heartily that it startles Shawn.  "You can't even see it."

"See what?" Shawn asks, slightly terrified of the answer.

"You'd make an incredible father," Maya says quietly.  "You're already much better to me than my dad could ever be."

Shawn feels his throat close, and he has to look away from her just to catch his breath.  The burning in his eyes definitely means he's about to cry, and he has to work for several minutes just to keep the tears from winning.  Maya sits there, waiting, and doesn't say a word.

"Um," Shawn manages after awhile.  "I - I think we should head to bed, Maya."

She nods, and stands up wordlessly from the bed.  She pulls back the covers on her side of the bed with Riley, and then pauses.

"You should know - I might lie about some things, but I don't lie about stuff like that.  I meant every word, Shawn."

In the morning, Shawn feels an odd sense of peace handing in an article that includes the sentences, _It's a great place for the family, too; I promise your kids will enjoy what it has to offer.  I know mine did_.

 

.

 

After his conversation with Maya, Shawn would feel horribly guilty if he didn't start regularly visiting again.  He talks to his boss and asks for more assignments in the tri-state area as well as more time off.  His boss obliges, and he's thrilled when he's able to make it for Maya's fourteenth birthday.  She hugs him tightly when he arrives, and that's probably the fiercest smile he's ever seen on her.

Two weeks later, he's back at the Matthews for a quiet weekend, and he takes Riley and Maya back to the bakery for nighttime desert.  He thinks about making it a tradition.

On his third visit back, Maya's in pieces over something to do with her dad.  She never gives him the full story, but she listens to Shawn's stories about his own struggles with Chet.  After a couple hours, she feels better, and she lets Shawn take her _, just her_ , to the bakery.

During his fourth visit, Shawn starts looking for jobs in New York City.

His fifth visit turns into an extremely extended stay.  He comes in on the weekend, and by Monday, he really doesn't want to leave.  He's up early, filled with anxiety, so he decides to stem it by making breakfast.  Topanga and Cory are both thoroughly surprised when they come into the kitchen that morning, but Maya doesn't even bat an eyelash when she sees him wearing Topanga's apron.

On Wednesday, he's still there because Cory woke up Tuesday morning sick.  Shawn took the girls to school and picked them up, and Auggie spent the day with Topanga as usual.  When he goes to bed Tuesday night, he decides that he'll stay until Cory's back on his feet, but on Wednesday, Topanga comes home and announces that she's working a new, extremely difficult case, and that's when she asks if Shawn could stand to stay for just a little bit longer - until the weekend is over, just long enough for Topanga to get through this case.

"Are - are you sure?" Shawn stammers.

Topanga nods.  "Cory's still not feeling well, and I know I'm going to need your help tonight with dinner.  And if Riley's sniffles this morning are indication, she's probably coming down with whatever Cory has, and I - I need be out of the house to work.  I could call a babysitter, but they'd work such long hours, and Auggie doesn't like daycare, and you're already here, would you just - "

"Relax," Shawn says, giving Topanga's shoulders a squeeze.  "I'll take care of everything, Topanga."

She leans forward and rests her head on Shawn's chest.  He tenses up for just a moment, but relaxes just as quick.  He wraps one arm around her and rubs her back.

"Thank you, Shawn," she sighs into his shirt, and he breathes a laugh.

The next few days are busy as hell, but Shawn manages to keep the household afloat.  Topanga thanks him every morning before she heads out with a kiss on the cheek, but on Saturday, she misses.  She hits his lips instead.  He's alarmed, and looks to see if anyone saw, but it's only the two of them.

"Topanga - "

"What?" she asks, and then she realizes.  "Oh.  I'm - I'm sorry.  Usually with Cory, I - "

"Not like it's never happened before," Shawn breathes, and winks.

Topanga grins.  "No.  And I'm sure it won't be long for Cory makes a mistake too."  She winks back at him as she leaves, and Shawn starts to wonder if it was a mistake at all.

By Sunday night, after taking care of both Riley and Auggie, Shawn's fallen sick.  His departure is once again put off, and he spends a solid two days cooped up in the guest room.  It's during those two days that Topanga's prediction comes true.

Cory comes in after he gets home from work with a fresh box of tissues and a thermos of soup.

"Hey, Shawnie."

Shawn pushes himself into a better sitting position and moves his laptop off his legs.

"I've been trying to write this article for over three hours, and I can't.  I think I'm braindead."

Cory laughs and joins him in bed.  "Scoot over, would ya?"

Shawn groans loudly as he does it, but he does it.

"How you feeling, Shawnie?"

"Better than yesterday," Shawn sighs.  "But the whole stuffed up thing is really talking a toll on my ability to think.  I'm pretty sure I've lost IQ points just trying to _breathe_."

"Oh, shut up," Cory laughs.

"I'm serious," Shawn protests, he turns to Cory to whine some more, but coughs instead.

"You're pathetic," Cory mutters, and then he leans down and presses a kiss to Shawn's lips.

Shawn freezes.  "Cor - "

"What? It's not like you can get me sick or anything."

Shawn shakes his head.  "What is with you and Topanga?  You think now that I'm back we can just - be us again?"

"Well," Cory says, rubbing the back of his neck.  "Topanga and I have talked about it a lot, and we were going to ask you to go out with us together, more formally, but - yeah.  We want that if you do."

Shawn doesn't say anything.  He sits for a solid three minutes and just stares at Cory.  None of this seems real.  He's starting think he might be completely delirious.  It's probably the fever talking or hallucinating or something, there's no way -

"You're not hallucinating, Shawn," Cory says.

"Fuck, I said that out loud?"

Cory huffs a deep breath and turns to face Shawn better.  "Shawnie, listen.  Topanga and I have been talking since before Christmas.  I mean, really we've been talking since you left, but now that you've been around so much - which is, we know, mostly due to the kids - we want a second chance with you.  Whatever happened to us those last two years of college wasn't a fluke.  Topanga and I, we love you, Shawn."

"Fuck," Shawn groans.  He slumps down and pulls the covers up to his eyes.

"Shawn!  What are you so afraid of?  I'm baring myself, here.  And if Topanga was here she'd be saying all of this too."

Shawn makes an exasperated noise and throws the covers off of him.  "Cory, I'm not just scared.  I am _paralyzed_ with fear."

"Why?!"

"Because this isn't supposed to be my life," Shawn says.  "I'm - I'm supposed to live alone and be a recluse and write shitty poetry in between all these stupid articles.  I'm not - I can't have a family to disappoint.  I can't be a father with you, Cor.  It's too late for that."

"It's not too late," Cory argues.  "You're already here, Shawn.  You're already like a father to the kids, especially Maya.  And you know that.  You just don't want to let yourself admit it, or see it."

Shawn looks up at him, half miserable, half hopeful.  "Do you and Topanga really want me back?  And not just as the kid's uncle?  You want what we had in college?"

"More than anything."

Both Cory and Shawn turn their heads to see Topanga in the doorway, briefcase still in hand and a giant smile on her face.

"I won the case," she adds offhandedly.  "But it looks like this one's still on the fence."

Shawn shakes his head.  "Not anymore.  I've been alone for so long.  If - if you guys really want me, then I'm willing to give us another shot."

Topanga lets herself into the room and sits down next to Cory.  He wraps an arm around her and Topanga reaches out to rest a hand on Shawn's leg.

"I won a case, my kids are getting along out there, and it looks like I'm getting my second husband back.  I must be the happiest girl in the world."

She picks up the thermos from where it's tossed aside next to Shawn's hip.

"Drink up," she demands.  "We need you better before we can consummate this relationship."

Shawn can't tear the cap off fast enough.

 

.

 

Moving in is the easiest thing he's ever done in his life.  Cory helps him, and little by little, they fill up the apartment with what bits and pieces Shawn has carried through the years.  With a grin, Cory sets the last box on the kitchen table.  The insides rattle, and Cory looks to make sure he hasn't broken anything.  Shawn's looking around with a grin on his face, but it disappears the second Cory pulls the damaged handgun from the box.

"Shawn - "

"Cor, it's not what you think.  It's broken - I promise.  It doesn't work."

Cory checks to see if it's loaded; it's not.  Shawn never had the heart to go back after he emptied it.  "Shawn - why do you even have this in the first place?  What do you need with a handgun?"

Shawn inhales a deep breath and shakes his head.  He stuffs his hands in his pockets for safety.  "You don't want to hear this."

Cory sets the gun back down on the table and narrows his eyes.  He lets out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a scoff.  "As long as you didn't kill anyone, I'll be good."

"No," Shawn says quietly.  "I didn't kill anyone, but I - I intended to - Cory, I - "  He breaks off huffing air through his teeth.  "I was going to kill _myself_."

Cory hangs his head, turns his back, and Shawn isn't entirely sure, but he thinks he hears Cory let out a small sob.  When he faces Shawn again, his eyes are definitely wet, and Shawn doesn't think he's ever seen him look so broken and lost.  Though it's probably not the best idea, Shawn goes on.

"I - I loaded it, but when I pulled the trigger, it wouldn't budge, and I - I failed."

Cory swallows hard.  His breath goes shaky as he wraps a hand around his mouth.

"That - that wasn't the only time, though," Shawn whispers.  "I - " his throat closes around the words and he settles for pulling up the sleeve of his shirt.  Cory looks, hesitant at first, but once his eyes get that first glance, he can't look away.  His gaze traces the small jagged scar at the tip of Shawn's wrist.  "i couldn't follow through."

"God - why?  Why would you do this, Shawnie?"

Shawn sighs and runs a hand through his hair.  "Because - because I was alone, Cory."

"But what about me and - "

"You and Topanga had Riley.  You had your family here and your families in Philadelphia and Pittsburgh, and I - I couldn't intrude on that, Cory.  I mean - my whole life all I've ever done is intrude and - and be a burden, and I couldn't - Cory, I had nothing left.  I had no reason to live, and honestly, I didn't want to."

Before Shawn even registers his movements, Cory has his arms wrapped around him, trapping him in the tightest hug he's ever been in.

"Shawn," Cory breathes, pulling away and grabbing his wrist.  He points at it with force.  "You can't - you _can't_ do that to yourself."

"It was six years ago, Cor.  Once my career took off, I didn't - I never did anything."

"But did you want to?" Cory asks.  "Did you ever think about it at night in one of those hotels?  Did you ever wish the trigger would have budged?"

Shawn almost laughs.  "Yeah.  Yeah, of course I have."

Cory pulls him back in and doesn't let go for minutes on end.  When he finally pulls away, he says, "I'm getting a sitter tonight.  You, me, and Topanga are going to have a very long conversation about how much you matter to the both of us and how you're never allowed to hurt yourself again."

 

.

 

It's not easy.  It's far from it, actually.  The kids don't really bat an eyelash when Shawn moves into the guest room, they're just excited to have him around.  It's good.  It's a good change, and that's what Shawn tries to tell himself.  Cory and Topanga aren't as stressed out, and Maya spends even more time over at the Matthews' (if that's possible).  Good.  Shawn's doing good.

But sometimes when they're out, Shawn gets mistaken for Riley's father, and that's unnerving.  He worries people know, that they judge, and he couldn't live with himself if the kids ever suffered because of the relationship he has with their parents.  Nobody ever suspects a thing, however.  Not in reality.

He goes back to his old psychiatrist, and she's thrilled to see him.  He doesn't ever explain exactly what his new family is to her, but she gets it.  She doesn't judge him, and that helps more than Shawn could ever express.

(He is, however, able to tell her about the suicide attempts, and after much debate, he starts the process of searching for antidepressants).

It's not easy, but it does get easier.  Shawn is able to lighten up when he realizes that people sometimes mistake him for Maya's father instead, which he doesn't mind at all.  Sometimes they're all mistaken for a single dad family, and they all learn to just laugh it off.

At PTA meetings, Shawn meets other guardians.  He meets Maya's grandmother and Lucas' aunt.  He meets sisters, brothers, and an entire family from the Bronx with five generations living under one roof.

They're not a conventional family, not in the slightest, but when has Shawn ever been part of a conventional family?  At least he's happy with this one.


End file.
